


Hands of the Seraphim

by moonstoneclone



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand Fetish, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstoneclone/pseuds/moonstoneclone
Summary: Doctor Stephen Strange has a thing for hands and you can't change my mind.





	Hands of the Seraphim

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Marvel nor Doctor Strange.  
> I also knew nothing (and still don't) about hand fetishism so please don't come for me. This is my first attempt at writing porn.

Pushing your arms out, the small sphere of energy burst into the Shields of the Seraphim. “It’s not as fun as the Winds of Watoomb, but it can definitely save your life or others around you. The hardest part of this spell is to maintain its strength.” After a few seconds you let it dissipate on its own before turning to your students. With a nod to Mordo, you begin circling the group to watch and critique as your students began going through the technique.

 

More focused energy here, a straightened elbow there… overall performance was outstanding. Even Mister Stephen Strange was performing adequately. As you watched him, his shield began to break down and he scowled in frustration. At that, you call the lesson to a close and you approach the newer student. He began rambling as soon as you had sidled up to him. “My hands are shaking too much—I can’t maintain the shield.”

 

You smile gently at him before placing a hand on his arm. “Master Hamir has already shown you that’s not quite true. You had done really well up until that point, I think you may have just lost focus. Let’s try it together,” you say and Strange nods. You circle him as he gets into the starting position, and you teasingly run a finger down his back, causing him to go ram-rod straight. “The first rule of any magic is to have proper ergonomics. Were you slouched over during surgeries when you were removing brain tumors?”

 

Strange glowers before continuing with the spell. Slowly but surely the ball of energy is created. You reach from behind him to lift his elbows and his gaze shifts from his spell to your hands. _They look so soft…_

 

Distracted, the energy vanished and Strange groans in response. Quickly reassuring him, he tries again and concentrates solely on the shield. Once it is fully constructed you press your hands against the boundary to test out its flexibility. From within the shield Strange watches your fingers dance across the intricate details to admire his handiwork.

 

He immediately loses focus again as a dirty thought crosses his mind, and he silently curses himself. _Very unprofessional, Stephen. Very unprofessional._

 

“Strange, what happened? You were doing so well,” you question, placing your hand on his arm again. He looks down at your hand before slowly meeting your eyes.

 

“Show me something else,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper, “something intricate.”

 

Unsure and flustered, you stumble over your words. “Okay, uh, this is something I made up if the s-shield isn’t powerful enough to protect you.”

 

You back up to leave plenty of space between the two of you and center yourself before speaking again. “It requires a lot of energy concentration to be able to transform an attack into something harmless, like, for example, into butterflies.” And with that you slide your hands together in front of you. Sparks begin to fly as you rotate your right hand towards you, all your energy focused on the palms of your hands.

 

You look up when you’re ready. “Strange, throw something at me.” Without hesitation, he picked up a training staff and hurls it at you. Before it even reaches you, you throw the mass of energy at it and the staff dissolves into small blue butterflies.

 

With a hint of pride, you take a calming breath before turning towards your student.

 

His stare was so intense that you couldn’t look away. You coughed awkwardly, and his eyes trailed to your hand before snapping out of whatever trance he was in. 

 

He coughed out an excuse before hurrying out of the room, his face flushed. Watching his retreating form, you wonder what had gotten into him and decided to continue observing him to see if this odd behavior continued. 

 

 

Stephen briskly walked (he's got running, no of course not) towards his room, his mind reeling. He slams the door to his room shut and leans back onto it. He closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind by taking a deep breath but the image of your fingers, oh, your soft beautiful fingers... NO. He pulls at his hair and starts pacing his small room, arms clasped behind his back. What he needs to do is let off some steam. He needs to punch something.

 

Where he ended up, though, was at the library. He was determined to use his frustration and aggression for focus as he recited a journal on shielding. Once realizing that he had been reading the same sentence for the past minute, he gave up on studying and gazed around the room. His heart leaped when he noticed you sitting by yourself scribbling in a notebook. Strange watched as you frowned at your book and ripped out the page and crumpled it up before making a couple hand signs and producing a recurve bow.

 

At that Strange got up and made his way over to you. “How did you do that?”

 

Startled at his sudden appearance, you turn to him. “Oh, Mr. Strange. Nice to see you again. This,” you say, gesturing to your weapon, “is something I designed while here at Kamar-Taj. I’m not very good a hand-to-hand combat, which is why I never teach those classes,” you add with a chuckle, “so I had to find a way to fight from long distances.”

 

“So that’s why I have never seen you at sparring practices,” Strange smirked, and you wink at him in response.

 

There is a lull before Strange continued the conversation. “So what are you writing down? Your research on the topic?”

 

You nod, “Long distance weaponry isn’t very big in the mystic arts because it requires a lot of control and focus of energy.” You let the bow dissolve. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to create the arrows yet, but I’ll get there eventually.”

 

At that you turn the page but accidentally nick your index finger on the thin pages. You suck in a breath and curse, immediately sticking your finger in your mouth to try to stop the bleeding. You hear Strange tsk at you. “I’m a Doctor, let me see. Sticking your finger in your mouth does nothing since the mouth has a ton of bacteria in it,” he states, pulling your hand out of your mouth to inspect the damage.

 

 _Big mistake_ , he thought as he stared at your hand in his. The cut was small and had already stopped bleeding due to your saliva washing the blood away. _God, your finger was wet._ It was all too much for him, him kneeling in front of your chair, you holding out you hand for him, you _watching_ him. Before he could stop himself, he was kissing your injured finger.

 

He could hear you giggle nervously above him. “Mister Strange, I didn’t really have that in mind when—”

 

“Doctor.” His voice was hoarse and pitched lower than normal. He knew you could hear it too.

 

“…what?”

 

“It’s Doctor Strange.”

 

You take in his dilated pupils and flushed face. You lean down towards him and bring your hand up to caress his chiseled cheekbone, gently stroking his face, and observe the way he grips your chair’s arms, knuckles turning white, and the way he squeezes his eyes shut. He releases a shaky breath when you remove your hand, and he opens his eyes to meet yours, his desire and embarrassment written on his face.

 

He wanted you, and you would be lying to yourself to say you didn’t want him.

 

Without a word, you stand and head toward the exit and he follows, unsure. You head down the corridor and fling open your door with a flick of your wrist and usher him inside. As soon as you have the door closed he’s all over you, ravaging your mouth with kisses. Your hands make their way up his frame and his whole body shivers from your touch. He breaks the kisses to lean on the door to catch a breath and control himself and you use that time to catch your breath as well.

 

You place a hand on his chest. “What do you need me to do?”

 

He grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers. “I…I need you to touch me. Your hands are just…they have this effect on me that I don’t know how to explain—”

 

And with that, you push him towards the bed. He falls backwards and you clamber on top of him, taking control immediately.

 

You begin by lightly rubbing your hands up his chest, keeping just enough pressure that he can feel it through his robes. You travelled down to his navel and back up again, varying the pressure of your fingers and making sure to not touch any skin. You also did this to his arms and legs until he was bucking into your hands to get more pressure. You chuckle at his frustration and leaned in next to his ear and murmured, "getting impatient, aren't we?"

 

He grunted in response. Your hands slowly caress his face, your nails lightly dragging across his skin as you talk. "I'm gonna take your clothes off and then I'm gonna rub lotion all over you with my soft hands. Okay?"

 

"Yes, please," he rasps, yearning for your hands on his body. 

 

And with that, you make quick work of removing his robes, excitement coursing through you as he lay on your bed in nothing but his boxers. You straddle his stomach as you pump a large amount of lotion into your hands, making sure Strange watches as you lather your hands, smirking as he whimpers at the wet noises produced. Feeling the urge to touch him, you stop teasing and run your hands down his torso, causing him to curse and jerk into your touch. You kiss him as your hands continue exploring his body.

 

Your ass accidentally rubs against his dick and his whole body spasms as you begin slowly grinding against him.

 

“Y/N, please. I need you.” Strange’s breathing is labored as he begs, and you finally settle between his legs to give the large dent in his pants some much needed attention. After cupping him through the material of his boxers, you start slowly stroking him.

 

You notice him struggling to sit up and you push him back down with your free hand and wave it over his body. Coils wrap around his torso and wrists to bind him. You stop stroking him (much to his displeasure) to use both hands to move him and the binds towards the head of the bed. You place pillows under his head to elevate him, and once finished you kiss him softly.

 

“I could have done that myself,” he murmured against your lips.

 

You pull away to whisper in his ear. “I know, but I wanted to do it to make sure you see everything I’m about to do to you.”

 

Your words make his cock twitch, and he releases a breathy “fuck” as you practically tear away his boxers to immediately get to work. You hop off the bed to grab the first available essential oil.

 

_Ylang Ylang. Convenient._

 

You drip the oil down the underside of his shaft, then after rubbing the oil around, you begin giving him experimental strokes to test the waters.

 

“…wait.”

 

You halt and face him. You release the binds on his wrists and he reaches for you, gently cupping your face. “I want to see you.”

 

You nod shyly before going in to kiss him again as he begins removing articles of your clothing. After the last clasp is undone, you lean back and let your robes slide off you and onto the bed. His eyes roam your body before leaning forward to kiss you again.

 

Pulling away, you reach for his dick again, but a hand stops you. You give him a quizzical look but his shakes his head. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away as he says, “I want you to touch yourself. For me. I want you to see what you do to me.”

 

Wordlessly you kneel beside him and begin trailing your hands across your arms and shoulders, the residue of the oil on your hands leaving tracks across your skin. Strange notices this and lets out a soft moan, eyes never leaving your hands as he palms himself. Strange copies the pace your hands: the faster you explore yourself, he mimics in strokes. Your hands slide up your neck and hesitate around your collarbone before coming to play with your breasts, a shiver running up your body as you play with your nipples, making you sigh in content. You’re rewarded with more cursing from your companion, and you continue lower until you reach your hips.

 

You add more oil to your hands as you tease your inner thigh with long fluid hand strokes.

 

“Y/N, fuck, you’re beautiful,” your companion manages to say, his strokes growing sloppy as he continues to watch as you finally reach your folds. Just watching him masturbate to you has made you wet, and the added oil to your fingers make you moan in pleasure as you begin to rub yourself with three fingers, the other hand trailing back up to your breast.

 

“Oh god, this feels so good, Strange! The feeling of my wet hands on my pussy like this… I’m imagining you touching me.” You watch his pace quicken on himself, his breathing labored as he listens to you, eyes still not leaving the hand on your clit. You continue, your rubbing picking up speed as you chase your orgasm, feeling the familiar buildup. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck my wet pussy with that big cock of yours.”

 

And with that, he comes undone, cum spilling onto his stomach as he groans out your name, his body shaking from his orgasm. His hair damp from sweat, his face scrunched up in ecstasy, his muscles flexing…the sight of him is too much and it sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through you like a knife, leaving you gasping for air as a few moans slip out.

 

You feel a hand on your thigh and you grab it, the hand leading you to lie down next to its owner. You lie next to one another in silence, hands still intertwined.

 

After a while you get up and slide into a bathrobe and head for the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth. Strange accepts the cloth sheepishly and wipes off his mess as you start the shower.

 

Slipping out of the bathrobe, you step into the shower, relishing in the feeling of water rinsing the sweat and oil off your body. You feel a presence behind you and you turn to find Strange hesitating at the entrance. He takes your offered hand and joins you under the stream, the two of you silent as you wash yourselves. You’re in the middle of scrubbing your shoulder when he places a hand gently on your back to get your attention. His opposite hand caresses your face when you turn to him and he searches your face for rejection before giving you a chaste kiss. When you part, he seems to be searching for words and you wait patiently.

 

“I…I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

 

A smile graces your face and he copies you. “I certainly hope not. I didn’t get to do the things I wanted to you. I have so much in store for you…” And with that, you exit the shower with Strange not far behind you.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that that's over with, I'm gonna take a shower and read the bible. Yes, I did write and publish this on Christmas. And what about it?


End file.
